


Darkest Before Dawn

by eddieandbuck



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 9-1-1 - Freeform, Angst, Buck needs a hug, M/M, This Is Sad, buddie, can someone please give buck a break, i promise this gets less angsty, poor buck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21558940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddieandbuck/pseuds/eddieandbuck
Summary: Buck finds the early mornings hellacious, even after the nightmares have stopped.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 183





	Darkest Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Since the beginning of S3 I have written like 3 Buddie fics and then deleted them because they were all shit. This one is no different. Enjoy this trainwreck.

After the tsunami, Buck found the early mornings hellacious. He avoided sleep, or more accurately, he avoided being sucked in by the undercurrent of nightmares that teased the edges of his imagination and played on an endless loop like a vintage film reel. Now, Buck still found the early mornings hellacious. All he wanted was some Ambien, to trade insomnia and the broken record that was his thoughts telling him he was a useless fuck up for the tantalising pain of paralysing night terrors. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it, because he did. Shit, Buck would trade anything to be out of his head, out of his body, for just five minutes. To mute the voice that just wouldn't shut up. Of course, there was one way, but Buck hadn't gone through with it yet. He thought that no one would miss him. That no one would care. Those who didn't already hate him he had pushed away. Bobby hated him, Eddie hated him, Christopher hated him. He had hurt them, he had hurt everyone with his shitty life choices. Maddie had chosen to forgive him. Why? Buck didn't know. Hen forgave him too, and Chimeny. But only probably because Maddie and Hen had coerced him into. Still, Buck pushed them away. He didn't deserve good people in his life. Not after what he did to all of them. He deserved this pain. This loneliness. This suffering. 

Buck sat in his car which he had parked behind a shady bar. In the compromise of Prozac he didn't have, Buck had chosen to down an uncountable number of tequila shots or wait, was it vodka? He didn't know anymore, and a couple of mysterious white pills that were given to him by a pretty blonde who may have been a hooker. He wanted to feel numb. Nothing would be a paradise compared to his thoughts that were like a Foehn wind. Buck didn't know if he was too high, too drunk, or too tired to drive home, so he just sat in his car staring out the window. Outside, the night looked like an abyss of black, like his mind. Ready to swallow him whole. Buck blinked. Slowly things started to blur back into focus, like a video on rewind. The haze of LA, the flickering street lamps, the empty parking lot, the noise of the city. Wait, no. There was no noise. Just eery silence. A silence that felt like a black abyss. Buck bolted upright in a panic. The car felt too small. The walls. The walls were closing. Closing in. Out. He had to get out. Buck scrambled for the door handle, desperate for fresh air, for something. His hands grasped at nothing. Buck had always laughed at the expression 'grasping at straws', but now that was what he was doing. His hands scrabbled along the car door but he couldn't get out. He slumped over, hyperventilating. Oxygen was getting limited. 

Buck wanted to tell himself that he was being stupid. That it was a car, not a coffin buried six feet under with him still alive in it like some shitty horror movie aimed to make edgy 12-year-olds go screaming for their mommies. He wanted to tell himself that the oxygen would not run out, and that he had not suddenly gone deaf, that he could hear the distant sirens and honks of traffic in the city, but he couldn' get through to himself. He felt disconnected from his body like he was an outsider looking through the window at some fuck up low life guy having a nervous breakdown at 4 am on a Thursday. He couldn't get back to himself, it was like someone had taken him, and just left this outer remains, this shell of the former Buck in his place, in his car right now. It was like there were two Bucks but only had any feelings and life. God, he was so fucking high. He laughed. And then he couldn't stop laughing.

"Buck! Buck!" A voice screamed out his name. Christopher's voice. "Buck! Buck help! Help please, please Buck! Why won't you help me? Why won't you help me, Buck?"

Buck could see Christopher's hand, stretched out towards him. All he had to do was take it. But he didn't. He stood there, watching. Watching as the water rose, as it dragged Christopher away. 

Christopher is gone. Eddie stands in front of him.

"Buck? Where's Chris?" Eddie looks confused.

"I- I - I couldn't help him. I - I lost him. Eddie, oh my God. Eddie, I'm so sorry. I - I lost him. I lost Chris. Oh my God." Buck reaches out for Eddie, wanting to find comfort. Eddie steps back, letting Buck fall to the ground. Eddie gives him a look of disgust.

"You piece of shit! How could you, Evan!" Eddie spits Buck's name with venom. "You had one task! To make sure that kid was okay, to help him for fuck's sake! You didn't lose him, you let him die. ¡Hijo de puta! Mi Hijo está Muerto por tu culpa, pedazo de mierda egoísta."

Buck doesn't know what Eddie said in Spanish. He doesn't want to. Eddie turns and walks away from him. Of course, he would, what was Buck thinking? That they'd stay best friends after he murdered Eddie's son? Stupid idiot. Deflated, Buck gets up, trudging back toward the tent. Here, he just looked like another one of the tsunami survivors, although Buck wishes that the bitter water had engulfed him too. Burning his throat, stinging his eyes and filling his lungs. He stops when he sees a young kid in a yellow tee-shirt. 

"C-Chris?"

"Buck!" 

"I thought you were dead?!"

"I am. you let me drown. You murdered me. Have you forgotten already?"

"N-no, you're not real! This isn't real!"

"But it is, Buck. You let me drown. You murdered me. I'm dead and it's all your fault. My dad's never going to be happy again and it's all your fault. He's never going to love you again. Everything is your fault, Buck".

Buck wakes with a start from the nauseating nightmare. He breathes deeply. Big mistake. He winces his eyes shut at the jarring pain shooting through his skull. God, he was hungover as hell. Buck slowly takes in his surroundings. The first night he slept in God knows how long, over a month at least, and it was in his car. Buck sighs deeply. He got his wish of finally sleeping, but it seemed like to his luck the hellish nightmares and hellacious thoughts had combined into one big ol' trauma burrito. Lovely. 

Now somewhat sober, Buck manages to open the door of his car, opting to get out and stretch. He finds some spare change in the pocket of his jeans and stumbles along to find the nearest coffee shop, ignoring the pitying, and horrified, mostly horrified, looks he gets from strangers. Buck isn't paying much attention to his surroundings, must less the black truck that pulls up alongside him. He physically jumps when the horn is blared. Buck immediately prepares himself fro something horrific. Mobsters, cartel dudes, anyone who may subject him to a life of being a drug mule, but when Eddie Diaz jumps out Buck blinks in shock. It takes him a minute to remember that Christopher dying and Eddie abandoning him was just a dream.

"You, uh, you got a new truck?" Buck asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. Eddie gives him a confused look.

"Uhh, yeah? You asked me that last week when I got it." Buck looks at Eddie blankly. "You know, the day that it was revealed that Cap used to be a figure skater?" Eddie prompts, hoping that memory of the cardboard cutout of their Captain with a mullet and a figure skating costume would spark a memory. Buck just continues staring at Eddie's face blankly. Eddie gives up. He steers Buck by the shoulders to the passenger side of his truck, shoving him inside in the most undignified and ungraceful way possible.

"Whe-where are we g-going?" Buck stumbles over his words, slurring them slightly. Eddie ignores him. 

"What the hell happened to you, Evan? You look like shit and smell like a brewery." Eddie takes his eyes off the road for a millisecond, staring into uck's eyes. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Shit Buck! Are you high?!" Eddie pulls the car over in a violent swerving manner. He grabs Buck's face in his hands, concern etched into his hazel eyes.

"Why you being so nice to me?" Buck scrunches his face up. He can still feel the hangover, but it feels far away like there's fog everywhere and he's stubbing through it trying to grasp ahold of the pain. For once it's just out of reach. 

"I'm your best friend, Buck. I love you. Why wouldn't I be nice to you?"

"I, I, I kill-" Buck stumbles over the words, not wanting to admit a second time that he killed Christopher. Not wanting to lose Eddie a second time. "I killed Christopher!" Buck finally blurts out. "I let him drown. In the tsunami. He was calling out for me, asking me to help him, but I just stood there like the fucking idiot I am. You hate me! Everyone hates me." Buck cries. It's the first time he's cried.

"God, Buck. No. You saved him. You saved Christopher. He is perfectly safe. He's with his Abuela right now. I know after the lawsuit thigs were a bit rocky, but we all forgave you weeks ago, Buck. You have your job, your family back. What's going on with you, Buck?" 

And so Buck tells Eddie. His best friend. The guy he secretly loves a little more than in a friendly way. He tells him everything, from the nightmares that plagued his mind for weeks after the tsunami, to the intrusive thoughts circling his head like vultures. He tells Eddie about how he blames himself the accident with the ladder truck, and how that caused him to lose everything because he was just so damn fucking stupid. He tells Eddie about how sad he felt with the lawsuit, sadder than anything else. And betrayed. Replaced. Rinse and repeat. A nobody. He tells Eddie about how he planned on ending it all, taking his own life because he was so sick and tired of this never-ending bullshit life. He tells Eddie everything and he cries. And Eddie just listens. 

Eddie listens. Eddie doesn't say anything. Eddie just intertwines his hand with Buck's and drives them back to his house. In fact, neither of the men say anything on the drive back to Eddie's house. Eddie only lets go of Buck's hand when they get out of the car. Buck is confused, maybe it probably wasn't such a great idea for Eddie to hold his hand in more than a platonic way while Buck was still feeling the effects of whatever the hell he took from the girl in the bar last night, but he felt safe. Sure, he was a little confused, but blame that on the drugs, but he felt safe. He had Eddie. 

Buck sighed into Eddie's shoulder as he leads him into the house. What's broken can be mended. What's hurt can be healed. No matter how dark it gets, the sun is going to rise again. They always say that it's darkest before dawn.


End file.
